


Always yours

by bigstarkenergy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation, It's not as bad as the tags make it seem, M/M, Psychological Torture, There are no graphic descriptions of the actual torture, Torture, but it is mentioned, but it is pretty bad, lots of blood, semi-graphic description of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 14:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18054344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigstarkenergy/pseuds/bigstarkenergy
Summary: Getting kidnapped is normal for them, at this point. But there's nothing normal about this.And suddenly, Tony has a choice to make.





	Always yours

“Steve, Steve, come on, honey, wake up,” Tony hissed, his hands bound around the chair he was tied to. Steve was hung up like some sort of sick prize, like a hunter displaying his latest catch. Steve’s hands were above his head, shackled in massive metal cuffs, his legs were tied to the floor, and the chains holding his arms up made it so that his feet couldn’t touch the ground.

He looked completely defenseless, and the thought of what could happen to him made Tony’s blood run cold.

“Steve,” he hissed again, straining against the thick, sturdy knots tying him in place. Steve didn’t respond, his head still slumped forwards, his eyes closed. He already had four deep cuts from where Tony could see, a gash in his forehead, two on his arms, and a large slash across his thigh.

“It’s no use,” a voice suddenly said from behind Tony, startling him a little. Tony fought not to crane his neck to see the woman, and so he didn’t, keeping his eyes fixed on Steve.

“What do you want? Because this didn’t go so well for...well, I don’t know, _anyone_ who’s ever tried this before,” Tony spat out, letting contempt and disdain bleed into his voice.

The woman circled him and bent down on her knees, looking at Tony with adoration and fascination in her eyes. “I’m not like anyone else,” she said, one hand coming up to grab Tony’s jaw. “And relax, darling, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Tony wrenched his face out of her hands, and spat at her. “Fuck you,” he said. “Let us go.”

A frown slowly spread across her face, and she furrowed her forehead. “Now, I can’t have that. You’re mine now, Tony.”

Tony snorted, rolling his eyes. “Sure, darling, and we’ll live happily ever after. That’s what you want? You’re fucking insane.”

The woman shrugged a little, her beautiful hair cascading down her shoulders. “You’ll see, one day, Tony. You and I, we were meant to be.”

“In which fantasy?”

The woman stood up, still frowning, and Tony finally got the chance to get a full look at her. She had red hair, long and sleek, almost reaching her waist. She was dressed almost like Pepper, Tony thought, a black dress with several ornamental pieces of jewelry around her wrists.

“Now, Tony, that’s not the correct answer, darling. But I suppose it might take time. Love knows no bounds.”

“Then untie me,” Tony said, his heart starting to pound as the woman stepped closer and closer to Steve. _No,_ he thought. _Me. Take me. Leave him._

The woman laughed a little, a twinkling sound, and Tony felt bile rise up in his throat as she ran her hand over Steve’s bare stomach, digging her long nails into his skin, leaving red angry scratches behind.

“That was clever,” she said, eyes bright. “I knew we’d be good together, Tony. Stop fighting it.”

“Let. Us. Go,” Tony gritted out, his fists clenched.

The woman smiled, a wide grin, as she ran her fingers against Steve’s skin once more, leaving raised red marks that quickly began to fade. “I can’t do that, Tony. I knew this might be difficult, to let go. That’s why I brought him,” the woman said, patting a hand against Steve’s limp face.

Tony felt his stomach clench, and the overwhelming urge to throw up rose in his throat. _No,_ he thought again, like a chant, _no, no no, no. Not Steve. Never Steve._

“You’re sick,” Tony said, and the woman frowned again, hurt crossing her features. Suddenly, there was a loud slapping sound, and red began to rise on Steve’s face.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” she proclaimed, looking clinically at the red blossoming across Steve’s face. “Your lover might not like it.”

Tony choose to stay quiet. Steve still hadn’t woken up, and that had sounded like it hurt. She must have given him something, something strong, because normal sedatives went through Steve within minutes.

Then, the woman cocked her head, looking down at Tony with bright intrigue in her eyes. “Or,” she said, “by all means, keep talking. He’ll be dead by the end of the week anyway.”

And with that, Tony felt every ounce of blood in his body go ice cold.

His mind swam furiously, and Tony forced himself to calm down, to breathe. _Think, think. What is she going to do?_ A thousand possibilities rose to the surface of his thoughts, and he heaved up a dry cough, barely keeping himself from throwing up.

_Torture._

_Poison._

_Starvation._

With a gasp, Tony realized that the most merciful way for Steve to die would be for her to kill him with a dull butterknife. _No,_ he thought again, _no. I won’t let her hurt you, Steve. I promise. I promise. I won’t let her hurt you. I’ll die before I let her hurt you._

The woman clicked closer in her heels, kneeling once again. “Oh,” she said, and her voice almost sounded pitying. “I know. I know. But it’ll be okay. After all, you couldn’t possibly move on if you didn't see it with your own eyes. He’ll die,” she said, jerking her head in Steve’s direction, “and you’ll move on, Tony.”

Tony clenched his fists tighter, feeling his nails break the surface of his skin. “Let. Him. Go. I’ll never be yours.”

The woman merely looked at him, emotionless, before patting him on the cheek, and walking away. Behind him, Tony heard the sound of a door swinging shut, and he began to take frantic breaths in and out. _Breathe, breathe,_ he thought, _you can’t help either of you if you have a panic attack here._

Tony assessed the facts he knew. A woman, who acted like she knew him a little. Previous one-night stand? She was tall, at least 5’10 without the heels, and she clearly had some sort of bone to pick with Steve.

 _Me_ , Tony realized, the answer washing over him. _Me. I’m the reason she wants him dead._ The thought prompted a whole new wave of terror and determination. _I’m sorry,_ Tony thought, looking at Steve’s battered form. _I’m so sorry, honey._

He scanned the room they were in for any sort of clue, any help at all. There were four cameras he could see, one in each corner of the room. The ground was dirt, and the walls were what looked to be thick concrete.

As he craned his head looking around, something warm and wet dripped onto his face. When it dropped even further down, onto his chest, Tony realized with a start what it was. Blood _._

He must be injured somewhere, and he hadn’t even noticed. Tony closed his eyes and focused on his head, wondering about the pain. There was a dull ache, at the back of his head, but it wasn’t sharp and it didn’t seem important, so he pushed it aside. He just had to get them out of here. Then, they could deal with their injuries.

Tony was jerked out of his thoughts when Steve let out a low groan, and his head moved, his eyelashes fluttering open.

“Steve,” he said, desperate, “Steve. Wake up.”

Steve winced at the sound of Tony’s voice, but lifted his head up and his beautiful blue eyes met Tony’s.

Tony felt a wave of sadness and relief roll over him. _He’s alive,_ Tony thought. _He’s alive._

“Tony?” Steve rasped out. “Where are we?” Steve winced again after talking, flexing his jaw. “Why does my face hurt?”

Tony squeezed his eyes shut before forcing them open. _Me. That’s why your face hurts. Me. God, I’m so sorry, baby._

“We’ve been taken,” Tony finally said, his voice coming out thin. “She’s going to...she wants me to go with her. She’s going to...kill you.”

Steve didn’t move, still staring at Tony. “No she’s not,” he said, steadily, looking straight at Tony. “We’re going to get out of here,” he said, sure and confident. “Come on, we’ve done this dozens of times before, Tony.”

 _But I can’t do anything this time, Steve,_ Tony thought, looking at Steve’s cuts and battered skin. _Before, all I had to do was give in, build something. She’s going to kill you right in front of me, and I’m going to have to watch, Steve._

“Right,” Tony said, pushing his inner voices away. “We’ll be okay,” he echoed, and Steve smiled a little. Looking at Steve’s blue eyes and pure white smile, Tony thought with a desperate pang in his chest, _I might never see that again._

Then, the smile slowly dropped off Steve’s face, replaced by a look of pain and anguish. He began to wince and move, swinging a little in his restraints.

“Baby?” Tony asked, frantic. “What’s wrong?”

“Hurts,” Steve gritted out, and Tony saw the blood beginning to run down Steve’s arms. “I think there’s spikes in the cuffs,” Steve managed to say, and Tony wanted to throw up again.

“Steve,” Tony said, trying desperately to keep his voice calm. “Stop moving. You’ll make it worse, baby.”

Steve took in a deep breath and then forced himself to stay still, hanging by his wrists from the ceiling. The blood kept running down his body, dripping into a puddle on the floor.

“Tony,” Steve slurred, “I’m going to pass out. There’s something on the spikes.”

“Okay, baby. It’s okay, I’ll get us out of here,” Tony said, anger coursing through his veins.

“Okay,” Steve managed to say before his eyes fell closed again, slumping down.

With a deep breath, Tony tried his best to calm himself, to force his eyes away from the ever growing puddle of blood beneath Steve.

As he tried to think, Tony was interrupted by the sound of the door behind him swinging open again, and the woman’s clicking heels.

“I’ll kill him,” she said, standing in front of Tony. “Quickly, and almost painlessly. If you promise to come with me, without objections, without any tricks or toys. I’ll end it, right now, Tony, if you just come with me.”

“Go to hell,” Tony said, but the thought bounced around his head. What would be worse, to be responsible for Steve’s death, or for Steve to slowly die in front of him, in pain and agony?

She shrugged a little. “This is for you, Tony. If I had it my way, I’d let him starve to death right in front of you. But I love you, and so I’m willing to do this for you, Tony.”

Tony didn’t bother dignifying that with a response and the woman stood up and left again, the dull thud of the door closing echoing in the small space.

Eventually, Tony’s exhaustion won out, and the gash in his head moved from a dull ache to a sharp splitting pain. He nodded off, letting sleep take him.

* * *

The next few days were some of the worst in Tony’s life. Each morning, or at least, Tony assumed it was morning, the woman would come in, wake Tony up, and then tie a blindfold over Steve’s eyes. She’d inject him with syringes, and Steve would squirm and bite down on his lip, sometimes so hard it would bleed.

She’d torture him, beat him, hurt him, and if Tony ever tried to close his eyes, to look away, she’d flip a switch on the wall behind him, and the spikes in Steve’s cuffs would extend.

And then once Steve passed out, either from the pain or exhaustion, she’d bring Tony food, and offer him the same choice, over and over again.

Come with her, and she’d kill Steve, easy and painless.

Tony spat in her face, he thrashed in his restraints, but at she ever did was smile pityingly and pat him on the cheek.

On the fifth day, Steve managed to wake up before she came in.

Tony was weak and tired, she hadn’t given him much food, but Steve was in far worse shape. She’d neglected to feed him at all, and his skin was cold and pale, his muscles atrophying. Whatever she kept injecting Steve with kept him from healing, and so he was wasting away, right in front of Tony.

“Baby,” Tony choked out, at the sight of Steve’s eyes again, blue and clear. “I’m so sorry.”

“No,” Steve rasped, “No. Not your fault.”

Tony broke down sobbing, straining against the chair. Steve was there, barely two, three feet away, bloody and broken, _dying_ , in front of him.

Steve opened his mouth as if to speak, but he quickly spat out blood, lots and lots of blood, at Tony’s feet. Finally, he managed to choke out a few words. “I love you.”

Tony shook his head, fast, a blur of motion. “No,” he whispered, “No, you bastard, no, you don’t get to give up, I need you, no.”

Steve gave him a weak smile. “I’m dying, Tony. Say yes. Go with her. Get yourself out of here.”

“She’ll kill you,” Tony hissed, and Steve looked down at him, nothing but tender sweetness in his eyes.

“It’s okay, baby,” Steve whispered, so quiet Tony could barely hear him. “You’ll be okay. I love you.”

Tony felt tears begin dripping down his face, wet and warm. “No! No. You don’t get to say goodbye, Steve. We are going to get out of here. You hear me? We are.”

Steve looked at him, sad and sorrowful, but still so sure. “Let her kill me, Tony. You’ll have a chance to escape.”

“No,” Tony said again, loud and clear. “No. Never. We promised, remember? I’m not leaving you.”

“I don’t want you to see her kill me,” Steve finally said, eyes so clear, so blue, _so_ beautiful.

“She won’t,” Tony said, vehemently. “She won’t, Steve. We’re going to get out of here.”

“Tony.”

“No, Steve.”

“I love you.”

“No. No, Rogers, you hear me? You promised, Steve, you _promised._ You don’t get to say goodbye.”

“I love you,” Steve choked out, just before he seemed to drift out of consciousness, his head falling back, his eyes dropping closed.

 _No,_ Tony thought, with every ounce of his soul he had left. _No._

And with that, the door opened behind him.

“He’s still alive,” the woman remarked, sounding almost bored. “Remarkable. I see why you like him.”

Tony didn’t bother responding. Instead, he swallowed hard before gritting his teeth and clenching his fists tight, bracing his body for the shock.

With all his strength, he fought to stand up, to keep his feet braced against the ground. The wooden chair he was bound too was bolted to the ground, but maybe, just maybe, he could rip it, or break it, do _something._

Steve would die if he didn’t try.

The woman stepped closer, and Tony measured the distance between them. If she noticed Tony’s odd positioning, she didn’t mention it, stepping even closer.

She bent down, one hand coming up to tilt Tony’s jaw up. “You’re mine,” she whispered, her voice honey sweet and sickening in Tony’s ear.

Tony bit down hard on his teeth and pushed, swinging his body as much as he could. One of the chair legs on his right side gave way, and he felt a shooting pain in his leg as he collapsed on it. Using the little strength he had left, he used his momentum to swing the chair around, the other legs collapsing as well.

He slammed the chair into the woman, using it to fall on top of her. The broken fragments of wood dug into his legs and arms, but he ignored the pain, instead fighting to pull his hands free from the rope.

The woman was bent awkwardly under the remains of the chair, her legs twisted at awkward angles. Tony quickly picked up a piece of the chair and hit her in the head with the end of it, following it up with a hard stomp to her temple. Blood began to flow from her skin, and with a sick satisfaction, Tony fought the urge to hurt her, hurt her until she could no longer speak, until she could no longer breathe, until every scratch on Steve’s body had been paid back in kind.

Instead, he forced himself to turn away from her, to Steve. He searched frantically, along the wall, for the switch he’d seen her use to release him, and finally found it, flipping it.

Steve fell to the ground, a mess of limbs and blood and broken bones. He was so thin and frail that his ribs poked through his skin, every bruise was purple and black, and his skin was hanging off of him, too much for his atrophying state.

“Steve,” Tony said, gently shaking him. “Steve, honey.”

Steve slowly blinked his eyes open, bloodshot and red. Blood spilled from his head, his cheeks, his nose and mouth. God.

“Tony?” Steve slurred out, blood falling from his lips.

“Hi, honey,” Tony said, grinning despite their surroundings. “We’re going to be okay,” he whispered, running his hands along Steve’s face, smearing his thumb through Steve’s blood. “We’re going to be okay.”

“I love you,” Steve gurgled, choking on the blood in his mouth. Tony quickly shifted, so that Steve was sitting upright, leaning against his knee. “I love you,” Steve repeated, clearer this time.

“I love you too, honey,” Tony said, cradling Steve’s head in his hands. “Just hold on, baby.”

Tony gently, slowly, pulled Steve so that he was resting against the wall, then fished through the woman’s clothes, looking for some sort of phone, something.

He found one, a Stark Phone of all things, and quickly dialled Natasha’s number.

It went to voicemail, twice, until she picked up.

“Who is this?” she asked, harsh, and Tony almost wanted to cry at the sound of her voice.

“Hey, Nat,” he choked out, and he heard a gasp at the other side of the line.

“Tony?”

“The one and only.”

“Okay, Tony, I’m tracing your call right now, hold on, okay? We’ll be there as soon as possible. Thank god you’re alive,” she ended, an almost whisper.

“Aw, I’m touched.”

Natasha retorted something, Tony was sure, but he wasn’t paying attention, leaving the phone on the floor, making his way back to Steve. He hadn’t been tortured the same way Steve had, but he was still weak, his muscles screaming after staying in the same position for days on end, with little food.

“Baby, we’re going to be okay,” he whispered, combing hair and blood out of Steve’s face. “We’re going to be okay.”

Steve’s eyes were barely open, slivers of blue sky and ocean depths. “I love you,” he repeated, slurred and mumbled.

“I know, Steve. I know.”

Steve opened his eyes again, fully, and Tony wanted to drown in them, wanted to hold Steve against him for the rest of time, wanted to stay there, against Steve, Steve who had been tortured and hurt and almost killed, all because of Tony.

Steve, who, despite being covered in blood and hanging, peeling skin, was still the most beautiful thing Tony had ever seen.

Steve looked up at him, his eyes clear for the first time in days. “I love you,” he said, and beneath Tony’s fingers, he felt Steve’s heartbeat begin to drop, steadily slowing.

“No,” Tony rasped, gripping Steve closer to him. “No. Stay with me, baby. They’ll be here soon. Just hold on.”

Steve shook his head, ever so slightly. “Love you,” he said once more, his eyes closing, his heart rate still falling.

Tony heaved out a sob, holding Steve so tight against him he felt as if he might break one of his bones. “No,” he said, over and over and over again, falling from his lips. “No. No. I love you. No.”

Steve’s heart rate finally came to a stop beneath Tony’s fingers, and Tony wailed, gasping as he sobbed. “No,” he screamed, a constant prayer.

 _Come back,_ Tony thought desperately, _come back. I love you. No. I love you. You can’t die. You can’t die. I love you. No. I love you. No. No. No._

Tony clutched Steve’s body for a few more seconds before his common sense kicked in, and he forced himself to let go, in order to start CPR.

He pushed down hard on Steve’s chest, in time with the rhythm he’d been taught. Beneath his hands, he could feel the weakness of Steve’s bones, broken fragments underneath his fingers.

“Stay with me, baby, stay with me,” he whispered. “Come on, Steve. We’ve got so many things to do, baby. We’ve got to take Harley to that play, remember? You were all excited about it. And Peter, Peter, he wants to have you over for his class show and tell, remember? Come on, honey, we’ve got so many more things to do.”

“We’ve got to grow old, together, Steve. I never wanted to before, baby, I never did, but then you came along, and I couldn’t imagine anything worse than dying without you.” With that thought, Tony let out a strangled gasp, barely managing to keep pressing down on Steve’s chest.

“Come on, Steve,” he said, desperation bleeding into his voice. “You’ve got to stay with me, baby. I _need_ you.”

He heaved out a few breaths, continuing to perform CPR, breathing into Steve’s lungs, desperately wanting, hoping, praying.

“We need to grow old together,” he eventually whispered, soft and broken.

At the back of his head, Tony registered the sharp stabbing pain in his head return, but he pushed it aside, focusing on Steve.

Steve. Steve, who would die here, in this miserable room, all because of Tony. _No,_ Tony thought. _Not because of me. Please. Please. I’d do anything. Not because of me._

Tony felt a wave of despair and pain wash over him, and his tears dripped onto Steve’s bare torso.

“I love you,” he choked out, over Steve’s limp and lifeless body. “I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry, Steve.”

He kept going, knowing that it was hopeless, knowing that performing CPR on a corpse wouldn’t do anything anyway. He kept going, because the thought of giving up, the thought of letting go of the smallest sliver that Steve could wake up would be a betrayal of the deepest kind, something Tony could never, ever, forgive himself for.

 _I never told you I loved you,_ Tony thought. And it wasn’t true, Tony had said it a thousand times, days and nights, dusks and dawns. But this, this was different, because Steve meant so much, so damn much, he’d been Tony’s entire _world_.

“I love you, I love you,” Tony heaved, sobbing. “I’m sorry.”

He stayed there, for what seemed like eternities, pushing down with both his hands, breathing into Steve’s lungs, his tears falling onto every inch of Steve’s skin.

 _You failed him,_ a voice inside his head said, loud and clear. _You let him die._ Tony let the pain drown him, let it wash over him in waves, let it consume him. _I let him die,_ he thought, and at this point, his throat was raw from screaming, hoarse as he whispered mumbled words to the empty room, _I love you, no, please, no,_ falling from his lips.

“Tony,” a voice said, breaking through his haze, settling on his shoulder. “Tony.”

He didn’t tear his eyes away from Steve, but in the back of his mind, he registered the familiarity of the voice.

 _Natasha,_ he thought, and with that, he let the pain wash over him, overtake him. He fell back, passing out.

The last thing he remembered thinking was that he hoped he’d die too, just so that he’d be able to see Steve’s eyes again.

* * *

When Tony woke up, he cried for hours. Silent, sobbing tears. No one even really seemed to notice. He wasn’t sure if he should call the nurses or not, but the idea of having to talk to another person, the idea of accepting, of hearing that Steve had died, would be too much to bear.

 _We never got to grow old together,_ he kept thinking, over and over again. _I’m sorry, Steve. I’m so sorry. I’m so so so sorry. I’m sorry. We never got to grow old together._

Finally, a nurse came in to check on him, and she quickly backed out, alerting the doctors. People crowded around him, doctors, nurses, talking, asking questions that Tony could only half-way nod to, all the while thinking that the blue of the walls around him was wrong, it was all _wrong_ , it was dull and lifeless, nothing like the blue that was Steve eyes, so alive and _so_ beautiful.

With a choked off breath, Tony gasped for air. _I’ll never see your eyes again. I’ll never hear your laugh again. I’ll never hear your voice. I’ll never hold your hand again._

His mind went on, listing the thousand and one things that he’d never be able to do, never be able to say. The doctors eventually all filed out, giving up on asking him questions, leaving him to mourn in peace.

 _I love you,_ Tony thought, staring up at the blue ceiling. _I’m sorry._

In the seconds that he wasn’t overwhelmed by excruciating pain, Tony wondered if this was his penance, his ultimate sacrifice. For him to live, while Steve died.

 _I won’t see you,_ he thought. _You were made for pearly white gates and good people, Steve. I’m hell bound. I won’t see you._

Then, a nurse came in and adjusted something besides his bed, Tony's eyes were too blurry to see fully what she was doing, but then his head started to hurt a lot less, and his limbs felt slack and heavy. Eventually, he let the meds kick in, pulling him back to blissful, unadulterated sleep.

He dreamed of Steve.

Always, and forever. If Tony had been conscious, he would have thought that no matter what would happen, no matter how many years would pass, he'd always dream of Steve.

* * *

When he woke up again, Natasha was at his side. She was slumped over in the chair, the bags under her eyes obvious, red and puffy. She looked like she'd been crying, and that made Tony want to collapse into himself.

He’d known that Steve was dead, of course, but seeing this, seeing Natasha crying, that was all the evidence he needed. If he could, Tony would have started crying again, but he was fully dehydrated and exhausted, so instead he forced his arm to move, nudging her.

“Hey,” he choked out, and her eyes flew open.

She broke into a wide smile, strained a little at the corners. “Tony.”

He nodded at her, the only action he could really bring himself to do at this point. Leaning down over the hospital bed, Natasha wrapped her arms around him.

He buried his head into her curls, smelling faintly of vanilla and lavender. It felt good, to be touched by someone who wasn't a doctor, or that despicable woman.

“Nat,” he whispered, and she hugged him tighter.

“We've been waiting for you to wake up. We weren't sure if you would.”

“Woman?” Tony whispered, and Natasha's gaze instantly hardened.

“Dead,” she said, her eyes dark and stormy. Tony nodded again, in understanding, and she rested her head on his neck, one arm around him.

“Steve's been asking for you,” she whispered, and on the monitor besides him, Tony's heart skipped a beat.

“What?” he asked, his heart going crazy.

“Woah, Tony, calm down, calm down,” Natasha repeated, but all Tony could focus on was _Steve's been asking for you._

 _He's alive,_ Tony thought, a smile spreading across his face. _He's alive_.

“Alive?” he asked, and he saw the recognition dawn on Natasha's face.

“Yes,” she said, smiling. “He's alive, Tony.”

Tony felt a wave of relief and shock wash over him. _Alive,  alive, alive,_ his brain chanted. He felt his heart thumping beneath his fingers, and he fought to push Natasha off him.

“No, Tony, no, sit down, lay back, you can’t, he’s sleeping, you’re not fit to move,” Natasha said, repeatedly pushing him back down onto the bed.

“Nurse!” she called, out over her shoulder, and Tony loved her, he really did, but goddamn it, he needed to see Steve, he needed to see him, to hear him breathing, to know that he was _alive_.

One of the nurses came in and adjusted something by his bed again, and Tony felt his limbs grow heavy and limp, falling back. He shook his head and tried to fight off his looming exhaustion, but the meds knocked him out quickly, white hospital lights fading away into darkness.

* * *

 Tony woke up to the sound of Steve snoring.

He blinked his eyes open, then turned to his right. Steve was there, in a similar hospital bed, sleeping. His mouth was hanging open, and his eyes were shut, blonde eyelashes fluttering. Tony couldn’t really explain the wave of emotions that ran through him, just the feeling of overwhelming relief and bone tiring exhaustion.

 _I love you,_ Tony thought, and he broke into a wide, tired smile. _I love you._

Slowly, Tony reached out and stretched a little, resting his hand on top of Steve’s. His hand was warm and steady, nothing like it’d been in that cold, dark, miserable room.

“Night, baby,” Tony whispered, smiling at Steve’s face, illuminated in the soft moonlight coming in from the windows.

And for the first time in a week, Tony fell asleep with his husband by his side.

* * *

“Morning,” a voice said, scratchy, breaking Tony out of his quickly fading drowsiness. Tony was turned on his side, facing Steve, who was smiling at Tony, eyes bright.

“Morning,” Tony responded, and Steve’s hand over his tightened.

A thousand thoughts swum through Tony’s mind, countless “I’m sorry’s” and “I love you’s.” And as if he could hear Tony’s thoughts, Steve shook his head, bringing Tony’s hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss to them.

“No. Hey,” Steve said, his eyes so blue, so earnest. “Not your fault.”

Tony choked back a sob. _I held you as you died,_ he wanted to say, _I felt your pulse stop beneath my fingers._

“Was my fault,” he managed to whisper, eyes dropping from Steve’s. He couldn't look him in the eye. Steve had died, and it’d been Tony’s fault.

“Hey,” Steve said, soft yet commanding. He reached a hand out and tilted Tony’s head up. “Not. Your. Fault, Tony. She was deranged. What would you say if it’d been me, she wanted, not you?”

Tony fought back the hurricane of emotions raging inside his mind, and focused on Steve, Steve who was here, Steve who was alive, Steve who was the most beautiful thing Tony had ever seen.

“I would tell you it wasn’t your fault,” Tony whispered.

“Right. So don’t beat yourself up over it, Tony.”

Tony looked at Steve and wordlessly nodded. They both knew that it wouldn’t be easy, but for now, it’d be enough.

“I’m tired,” Tony said, bolder and louder, breaking the silence.

“Sleep,” Steve responded, giving him an easy smile. And as if he was reading Tony’s mind again, he added on a softer, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Tony felt his heart crack open, a tender softness seeping through his chest. “Love you,” he whispered, drifting off again.

“Love you too.”

* * *

Tony wrapped his arm around Steve, resting his head on Steve’s chest. “I’m tired,” he whispered, and Steve set down his book, looking down at Tony.

“Sleep,” Steve offered, lifting a hand up in order to brush some hair out of Tony’s face.

Tony glanced up at him, and at the sight of the small cut behind Steve’s ear, the last remnant of their ordeal, his heart began to race.

“You’re here. I’m here. You’re with me, Tony,” Steve reassured him, and if Tony hadn’t needed to hear it so much, he would have complained about how creepy it was that Steve could understand every one of Tony’s thoughts before he’d even said them.

“I love you,” Tony said, pulling Steve tighter against him, looking into Steve’s eyes. His eyes were beautiful, they always were, blue and green, dark and complex, bright and happy. They were beautiful, Steve always was.

“I love you too,” Steve replied softly, a hand coming up to rest on Tony’s back. “Sleep. I’ll be here in the morning.” Tony looked up at him through dark eyelashes and felt a deep seated calm settle over him as Steve gave him a fond smile, his hand running down Tony’s back.

“Promise?” Tony asked.

Steve nodded, and leaned down a little, pressing a kiss to Tony’s forehead.

“Promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at at bigstarkenergy on tumblr!


End file.
